CRESSIDA.
’Tis just to each of them: he is himself.
PANDARUS.
Himself! Alas, poor Troilus! I would he were!
CRESSIDA.
So he is.
PANDARUS.
Condition I had gone barefoot to India.
CRESSIDA.
He is not Hector.
PANDARUS.
Himself! no, he’s not himself. Would a’ were himself! Well, the gods are above; time must friend or end. Well, Troilus, well! I would my heart were in her body! No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus.
CRESSIDA.
Excuse me.
PANDARUS.
He is elder.
CRESSIDA.
Pardon me, pardon me.
PANDARUS.
Th’other’s not come to’t; you shall tell me another tale when th’other’s come to’t. Hector shall not have his wit this year.